


My Best Friend's Diary

by niche6



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alone, Angst, Anorexia, Depressing, Depression, Diary/Journal, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Hurt, Isolation, Lesbian Character, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niche6/pseuds/niche6
Summary: Trigger Warning!It has been nine years since I started crying alone. Nine years, of me sitting in the pitch-black wormhole, that is my room, in the middle of the night.  It has been nine years, since I started running away from society. Alone. Nine years since I realized how cruel the world can be to people. It has been nine years since I started viewing myself as unworthy to live.But this will be the last year of me having to deal with these feelings. This diary will be the last thing I leave behind to tell my story because I am not strong enough to tell it myself. Goodbye and I’m sorry my friend.
Kudos: 4





	My Best Friend's Diary

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning!
> 
> Anyone triggered by self harm or anorexia please do not read!! Contains bad thoughts and self abuse.

May 30th, 2015[T1]  
It has been nine years since I started crying alone. Nine years, of me sitting in the pitch-black wormhole, that is my room, in the middle of the night. It has been nine years, since I started running away from society. Alone. Nine years since I realized how cruel the world can be to people. It has been nine years since I started viewing myself as unworthy to live.  
But this will be the last year of me having to deal with these feelings. This diary will be the last thing I leave behind to tell my story because I am not strong enough to tell it myself. Goodbye and I’m sorry my friend.  
~~~~~  
All I can do is stare at the yellow sticky note, plastered on the first page of my dead friend’s diary. Her mother had given be the book after reading the note saying that it was from Mika to me. My face scrunches up as tears stream down my cheeks; landing on the suicide note. She left me. How could she leave me? Why would she leave me behind? Did she not trust me? She should have talked to me, taken me with her. I wondered if Mika could still hear me. ‘Mika, you did something I never thought anyone close to me would ever do. You were my sister, though not blood related. We slept over at each others house when we were younger, we bathed together, our birthdays were 2 days apart but that didn't matter cause we shared the same birthday party. And yet you left me here, alone. With no one.’  
I ran my hand across the black dirt stained diary, and hugged it close so I could smell her scent, the cinnamon and beeswax hair spray that always clung to her.  
Tears continue to fall as I crawl back onto my bed curling up into a ball. In my small blue room, hanging on the walls, were pictures of us on vacation and at birthday parties. Looking to my left a wooden frame with a photo of us sleeping in a green tent we made in the backyard. I was cold that night but you insisted that we slept outside. I never forgot, even when Mika stopped talking to me. I should have been a better friend, I should have known that something was seriously wrong…I just thought that maybe Mika could fix it alone…  
“I’m so sorry Mika I should have been there.”  
~~~~~  
January 15th, 2013  
This is awkward I’ve never used a diary before and it seems pointless but since my grandparents gave me it I guess I’ll try it out. I guess since this is my first I guess I’ll use it to tell about my days?  
…I’m not sure what to write…no I know what i'll write...  
I’ll tell you diary, everything that has happened to me and maybe you can help me find a solution? Hmm, diary is a lame name how about “Momo?” named after my best friend Momossa. Now I can tell you everything just like when I told Momossa everything.  
Anyways it started when I was around 6 years old that was when I realized how cruel children really are. I remember playing outside till a white child, no older than five said something to me after I ask if he wanted to play.  
He asked me: “Why are you so dark? You look dirty. Doesn’t your father give you a bath?” It’s funny cause momo you see, I grew up with no father just my grandparents who I love dearly. He also said my hair was weird and that he didn’t want to play with me because I was different. I never thought I was, are six year old supposed to know what different means.  
I no longer felt like playing anymore, and walked a few meters to the swings. The cold steal felt good against my fumbling child’s mind as the squeal of the metal screamed as i started swinging back and forth. Pumping my legs harder as I watched the other kids play marco-polo on the red judgel set. That is when I realized 2 very important things. First, no one had caramel brown skin like mine; second no one wanted to be near me because I wasn’t like them, no one stood near me.  
I never saw the boy again but his words were enough to stick with me. When I told my grandmother she simply told me I was being too sensitive, that I was perfect. I simply smiled and believed her. I was six then, now I’m twelve, I know better.  
~~~~~  
“Momo, come eat! We don't want to be late…” The voice shot through the wooden doors into my room and around the corner straight through to the bathroom.  
“Late for what?” My mother was so annoying, sitting on the toilet I placed the tattered diary on the counter.  
“Mika’s funeral! It’s today at 2PM, remember? So get your ass out of bed, and put your black dress on, I left it in front of your door, and get down here!!” her voice bounced off of the walls. My body tensed as shivers ran through my spine. Leaving the washroom I grab the dress off of the door knobe running my hand through the fabric, it’s smooth, plane. The texture was silky as if flowing like a stream of water, crying. Clenching my fist I throw it on the chair in front of my desk and jump onto my bed my hair .  
I look up at the ceiling thinking; her funeral, it has been 5 days since her death I don’t want to see her this way, not yet. Spread out on my bed in a star wearing a white frilly nightgown I gaze into the bathroom where the diary still lay atop the counter. I couldn’t cry anymore. I had done enough of that over the past 2 days while reading her diary. Closing my eyes I doze off thinking of all the fun times we had together.  
~~~~~  
June 18th 2013  
Hey Momo, this is the last week of classes. Finally! I don't have to come back to this dreaded school, well until next year. But I’ll be thirteen then, going into grade eight not that it makes any difference, or matters. I just wanted to let you know.  
Yesterday was a rough day. While sitting in the back of my English class, next to the small book shelf that held magazines and other strange texts, THAT thing happened again.  
Like usual I had my hoodie over my head to make sure no one could see my hair, I hate attention and my hair gets the most attention, it’s curly, brown and as big as another head, I hate it. Sorry I lost track, in class we had a substitute teacher so obviously it was gonna be an easy class so i got comfortable in my seat placing my head on the cool table top marked with dicks and other childish pencil sketches.  
As the professor was speaking in class I started getting nauseous and when I looked up from my desk my vision blurred and the same strange aching throbbing pain in my heart started to act up. Momo I swear it felt as if my heart was slowly being torn from each artery. I was so scared it was if being knocked off of a chair when you weren’t ready, that sinking feeling but nonstop. It was hard to listen or see or even think or do anything for that matter. It hurt, reminds me of the pain of being called a nigger and black slave or fat and useless. The kids always left a sting in my heart, a thorn that hurt so much and couldn't be removed when they called me names. I don't know how to get rid of it, it hurts so much, I don't want to feel it anymore…Oh i’m crying...i’m messing up the page...I guess I am worthless.  
~~~~~  
All I can do is look out the window as my mother drives away from the cemetery. My hair was free flowing, down to my back the wind blew itl around like a tsunami as we took speed. I watch the cemetery disappear and the house’s come into view  
“The view isn’t interesting anymore” I spoke allowed without thinking.  
“What was that?” my mother asked. “Nothing, it’s nothing mom.”  
Looking back out the window I blame the wind for the tears that fall. Recalling the past we had always told each other, Mika and myself, that we would one day leave this ghost town and travel to a city where people actually lived an exciting life. Where people who were different were accepted; everyone was accepted. Itching my arms the long sleeved black dress started irritating the scabs. Grabbing the diary within my handbag, trying to ignore the itching, I glanced out the window one more time before focusing on reading Mika’s diary. Opening the book a torn rusty looking page fell from the pages.  
~~~~~  
August 2nd 2013  
Let me die, let me die, let me die. All I did today is lie in my room…Kill me, kill me, kill me...I miss my old friend...im pathetic, pathetic pathetic... the other day Momossa tried to say ‘hi’ to me but I looked away….stupid...i’m stupid. It made me so sad but it was for the best. This way I wont dirty her, [i’m filthy, I should just disappear so she can stay clean] she should always stay the way she is so that Momossa doesn’t have to feel this pain, this pain I feel of loneliness.  
Hey momo?...SHE’s still following me I cannot get away from her...Help me.  
~~~~~~  
She’s asking for help. Mika was asking for help and I couldn’t help her. What type of friend am I?!  
My breathing became harsh and quick as thoughts of Mika crying out for my help, and me not responding, repeat within my mind. I feel like puking when a loud banging from the room just beside the bathroom breaks through my thoughts. My mother and her new boyfriend are having fun again I bangs get louder and I sink deeper into my bathtub; filled with bubbles the soap blocks the noise leaving only my thoughts of Mika and my uselessness.  
Mika’s diary is becoming a clutch keeping me afloat in this sea of discriminating people. But you were wrong Mika; head under the warm water, completely immersed I keep my eyes closed as I picture her brown curly hair twisted into a messy bun. I should be smiling but i’m frown. Why? Opening my eyes the water blurred my vision and stung my eyes as I look up at the bubbles. I am just as lonely as you were Mika I even have scars to prove it...  
~~~~~~  
November 14th 2013  
Momo! Oh my goodness today was horrible I don't want to back to school!!! I hate myself for being this way I’m so stupid why was I even born? UGH! Am I writing enough so you can feel my pain, my frustration?? Please, your the only one who will listen to me. Who will understand!  
In class as usual I’m sitting alone when the bell goes for lunch. My classmates start to gather around one another to head to the cafeteria together. Of course no one asked me…actually I’m pretty sure most don’t even know I exist. But that’s not important what’s important is that I saw HER again. She said I was a waste of space, am I a wast of space? She said I shouldn’t eat cause I was already to fat and kids would laugh at me. I know I am but I didn’t want her to feel satisfied. So I went against her demands and entered the cafeteria. The smells of pizza and fried food smacked me in the face like a pie throwing competition, my nose itched. I took my seat in my usual spot in the dusty back corner away from everyone, where it seemed like no light touched, abandoned. Like me I guess… no one sat near me but that didn’t bother me, much. I was about to take a bite of my sandwich when someone pushed me and I spilt my food on the table. My black hoodie was soaked and my shorts drenched.  
“You’re in the way, move lard you shouldn’t eat anyways, you won’t fit into your clothes soon, ahha”  
All I could do was sit there with a blank face, facing the table my head real low, i didn’t want anyone to see my weak side. But you know what Momo, inside, inside I was crying. I may look like I had no expression, like it didn’t bother me but I was crying hard Momo. SHE was right I shouldn’t have eaten, I’m fat and I don't deserve to eat. I ran to the washroom, such a cawerd, leaving my sandwhich on the table and the water on the floor. I wanted release from this feeling but i shouldn’t have come to the washroom cause that's when I heard the popular girls come in.  
I ended up in a stall, sitting atop the toilet with my feet tucked into my chest holding my breath. I was so scared they would find me last time they saw me they gave me a black eye and a sprained wrist. Then I heard it they started talking calling me an emo girl cause i wear all black clothing...saying i have no class cause I ran out of the cafeteria...I didn’t think I was that loud when I left? But then 1 girl, said she didn’t even know my name and they didn’t care. Momo am I that unimportant?  
I kept my hand over my mouth with my eyes shut tightly hugging my knees hard as tears spilled, I was shaking so much it felt like my spin was dislocated. Why are they so mean? What did I do to you? They don’t even know me so why do they judge me? I kept asking myself these questions while sitting on the tiolet as quite as a mouse. That's when I heard it:  
“I bet she cuts herself and cries to herself alone in her room, how pathetic”  
Is that something to make fun of I wonder? Even now my body shakes from rememeber her words, her hate-filled and malicious words, but this afternoon my palms were sweating and my heart pounded as I kept gasping for air but I couldn’t get anything. The girls left and I stepped out of the stall and SHE was staring right at me in the mirror. I wanted to feel better so I asked HER…  
I asked HER to “make me better…so that's what she did…”  
~~~~~~  
She was never fat in fact she was way underweight for years. The first time she asked me was when we were 9 I thought nothing of it. I guess I should have.  
Caressing the diary the words were a mess she must have been crying when she wrote this, the ink is all blurred from her tears. The book fell from my hands as one the football jerks bumped into me. “Oops sorry about that blacky, didn’t see you there you blended into the lockers so well”  
Hands clenched tightly I keep my head down without saying a word and pick up the book, turning around on my heels I head in the opposite direction from the jocks who make it daily routine to bully me. If they don’t see me for a day the next day gets worse. The throbbing pain in my shoulder will soon turn to a bruise like usual but I can’t resist to rub the spot as if it will lesson the pain.  
“Hey Momossa!” my friends call from the other end of the hall. I don’t want to talk to them now so I smile and wave pointing at the stairs and half run half jog there, “I have something to do I’ll see you guys after!”. Sprinting up the stairs I keep my head down tightening my hold on the diary till I find the first empty classroom and squeeze inside. Sliding down the door my body can’t support me any longer and I land on the floor. Knees to chest I nestle the Diary in my arms as my body in-circles the book, the only thing keeping me alive.  
~~~~~~~

January 12th 2014  
Hey, Momo? Have you ever been so scared of yourself that you don’t know what to do anymore? Because I’m scared, I keep thinking of death and that scares me. It is not the thought of death itself I’m not scared to die but the fact that I’m ready to die, that scares me. I don't know why these thoughts keep coming back and SHE doesn't help them in fact SHE makes it worse. She shows me just how insignificant I really am…  
The other day an old friend who I haven’t talked to in years came up to me and said, I looked good, she said she liked my curly hair.  
Lies…they are lying to you…that's what SHE said…  
My old friend said I looked nice in my outfit as well.  
But SHE said he was only lying, that I knew the truth.  
I did know the truth I knew they were lying, they always are, they don’t care about me. But that's okay because I don't need them anymore SHE is becoming my friend. SHE doesn’t lie to me like everyone else and SHE doesn’t hide anything from me. SHE’s the only one who understands me. Momo do you understand me?  
~~~~~~  
4AM in the morning and I sit here on my bedroom floor, a sobbing mess. Tissues lay scattered on the ground atop the bed, under the table, and overflowing my trash. I’ve met HER I know exactly who SHE is and it haunts me still to know. I punish myself for the 10th time finally the numbness overtakes me.  
Of course I’ve felt like dying, I still do even in this moment I want to die but I can’t. Reaching for another tissue I wipe the liquid from my skin. Flushed cheeks as pink as roses I was faint, light headed as I fall back onto the carpet. My hand clips something, the book. Ah this dreaded book, it’s haunting me. She suffered so much, from the hundreds of pages torn, some from Mika’s diary others on plane pieces of paper, there was no doubt that she suffered mentally. The papers all say the same thing, “worthless, fat, pig, not good enough, not normal, die, pain” over and over and over again.  
You hated yourself this much? All these incidents affected you this much? Drifting to sleep I wanted her to know that I understand, I understand everything…  
~~~~~~  
April 1, 2014  
I got caught, I got caught, I got caught, I got caught, I got caught. No, no, no, no, no. Stupid, dumb, idiot, why why why why why! I got caught ugh, I was dragged into the councellers office today. When she called me to the office of the speaker it felt like my stomach was gonna burst open, like a wedge of dynamit wedged between my intestines ready to explode. I always avoid stressful situations in order to prevent people from seeing my secret and avoid unwanted attention.  
I can’t deal with situations like this I automatically assume I did something wrong, so I must punish myself for this wrongdoing. It’s only right.  
Which is what i’m doing now… punishing myself… that's what SHE says I should do…SHE told me that by hurting myself I can make the mental pain disappear, a distraction. This has completely taken over my life, not just once or twice a day but all the time, one wrong look from someone, I know I must have done something so that's a burn. A teacher says I should pay more attention that's 2 more bruises. Getting called down to the councellers office that's 20 more.  
Let me disappear… let the pain vanish...let me be in peace.  
~~~~~~  
I stumbled on something before catching myself with my hand. A crack sound split my ears as fire engulfed my wrist. Tears sprung to my eyes as my muscles tensed and shook from the shock.  
“This time stay down oreo! ahaha”  
Those stupid jerks, was this what Mika felt like for all these years? I hate that nickname, Oreo so disrespectful It’s not like it’s my fault I was born this way, I love my parents, though I don’t know who my father is he must have had a reason to leave.  
I could tell that my hand was broken as a golfball size lump started swelling near my wrist bone. Standing I start towards the nurse’s office being sent to the hospital to re-place my wrist I wait in silence as the usual doctor greets me with his usual smile that never fully reaches his ears. The pain is excruciating as the bone is popped back into place but I’m used to it now. Even the doctors don’t mention my frequent visits anymore. Laying back I watch as they place a white gooey plaster on my wrist, the bottom layer for my 7th cast, and wrap a purple band around that to secure and harden the cast.  
I would be less of a burden if I disappeared, that’s what SHE keeps telling me.  
~~~~~~  
October 31th 2014  
Another Halloween that I don’t want to do, pretending to be monsters then get sweets and treats from random strangers isn’t my style. Plus, I always seem to be the one getting drenched in juice by other kids. That's why I decided to stay home this year and write to you Momo.  
My parents think I’m fine… am I? They want me to eat, but I don’t want too...I need to be thinner, prettier. They don’t know anything, they don’t understand and I want to leave it that way. If they blame the computer let them.  
I realized that I haven’t been write in you anymore, is it time to go? I’m gonna take a shower...  
Every time...ah this is hard, it’s the first time i’m tell you this Momo...every time I step out of the shower I see the same thing. I feel the same thing. Standing in front of the mirror is the hardest thing to do; my heart drops and it feels as if I swallowed a thousand razors, all lining my throat like a blazing fire, I am disgusted at myself for being different. For being darker than others, for being not thin enough, for having these cuts and burns scar my arms, legs, and stomach. For being me!  
Today I made up my mind, I will destroy myself this year so that I don’t have to suffer anymore.

May 20th, 2015  
It has been 3 years to the date that I have not spoken to my best friend…and this will be the last entry in my diary… So I want to dedicate it to her.  
~~~~~~~  
No no no no no I can’t read anymore, this was enough, I read enough. I don't want to read what she wrote I don’t want it to end. I chuck the book at the wall across the bathroom, the impact sent a loud BANG echoing the room as it lands beside the trashcan next to the toilet, splitting into two. I simply watch for a few minutes before picking up both pieces. Ironically the last page falls from the book landing on my feet.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not telling you how I’ve been feeling. I know I hurt you and that I haven’t been a good friend Momo. I hope you have a better life in the future because you're special and you're strong. You can live a happy life. I was never happy only when I was next to you was I able to forget about these thoughts. But you see, I’ve decided that I don’t want to suffer anymore, I want release. I’ll finally be happy for once. If you are reading this when I’m gone I just want you to know Momossa that I love you my friend, please stay safe and happy like you always are. Bye my dear friend ~

Tears spill down my face I can’t catch my breath, I can’t see I can’t move. I can’t think instead I write, I write my own note to my dead best friend.  
“Mika I love you and miss you, you were never alone if you asked for help I was always here…” Red drops of blood fell onto the page, damn I messed up your diary, I’m sorry Mika. Smearing the blood I continued writing, “I also needed help but was to scared to ask you” a few more drops fell, “I wish I could join you but I’m scared I’m too scared to follow. Please forgive me…”  
I looked at the note before looking at my bloodied wrists layered with hundreds of scars deep, long, small some old many new. I placed the note on the last page of Mika’s diary. Shutting the book carefully I put every piece of paper back in the original place before setting the diary on my bed. Walking back into the washroom I strip naked; thousands of scars layer my body as I look in the mirror eyes red, cheeks sunken in; a ghost looking back. Slipping into the bath the red filled the white tiled tub as I slowly sunk into the warm water. SHE says I should watch so I am; I watch as the water becomes darker and dark, my arms bleed more bleeding faster as if releaved to leave my body.  
“Mika we are more similar to each other then you think. I understand you more than you thought I would.” My eyes started getting heavy and the pain started to slowly drift off, maybe I will get to see you sooner then I thought. I realize now that SHE is us Mika, we simply are listening to us, what we want, smiling I slowly drift


End file.
